Pawns
by momoxtoshiro
Summary: Which was the worser fate? To be turned and killed by your fellows? Or to kill the monsters who had once been your classmates with your own two hands? It was all a game to him.


**This is based off of the lyrics of volume 2's opening song, Time To Say Goodbye. The lyrics are pretty morbid and there are several theories about Beacon being corrupted, so I just threw this together quickly.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.**

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Pawns

She stood unmoving and erect amongst the lines of bodies, all perfectly-spaced as they awaited orders – like dogs – to move.

She was different now, a shadow of her former, innocent self.

All she'd wanted to do was help people, protect others who couldn't protect themselves. She strove for justice, and fought as a way to reconcile her own demons.

But her naivety was easily manipulated, and she never even realized what they were molding her into until it was already too late.

Now, she had been chosen as the first one in line.

The first one to die.

There were no other options other than to blindly follow his orders.

Her flowing red cape symbolized everything she had ever lived for, but over the time she had spent there, it had been stained darker and uglier, once-sacred material now tainted with the blood of her enemies.

Her _friends_.

. . .

Beside her was the girl who's family had sold her off to fight - a soldier.

They had raised her and trained her to fight with only the finest mentors, and forced her to kill before, soothingly telling her the family name would cover it up.

All she'd wanted to do was make friends, tell others of the horrible past she'd escaped, be close to someone. She strove for companionship, and fought to correct her past sins.

But her body had never been her own to begin with, and she had been exchanged for money in order to fight for him.

Now, she was second in line.

The second one to die.

Never once before having been good enough for first, even for something as tempting as death.

The white crest on her back could no longer display the guise of her history; she was anything but pure. She just didn't want to be alone.

She had gotten her wish, but now they would all pay the price together.

. . .

The third was a girl who crawled up from the bottom, clawing her way into the vision of those in power.

From a young age, she had been taught how to fight, steal, and kill, regardless of the repercussions it may have on others.

All she'd wanted was to be accepted for who she was, reveal her secret and be loved. She strove for equality, and fought to start over, to bury her dark past and reach a new light.

But her morals had lead her astray, and she'd trustingly followed orders without question.

And now she was third in line.

Third to die.

An afterthought of a number, but not grand enough for the finish.

The black ribbon in her hair couldn't hide her identity any longer, and she would use what they had taught her. She was a sacrifice, and the others were, too.

It was the first and last time in her life she would be equal.

. . .

The last girl had lived her life with one purpose in mind; to protect.

She needed to be the righteous one, behind the scenes, offering support to ones more important than herself. She was firstborn, and yet last when it came to significance or potential.

All she'd wanted was to see those she loved smile, and be returned the warmth she so often gave. She strove to defend what she cared for most, to shine on all she loved like the sun, to be their guiding light.

But her indecision had dragged her down, and she couldn't protect anyone anymore, not even her own blood.

She was fourth in line.

Fourth to die.

The grand finale.

It suited her that no one would be left to recognize her efforts, that she would have to watch everyone she loved die before her. The weapons on her fists had always defended what was dearest to her, but at the cost of immeasurable destruction.

Now, her warmth and love could only serve one final purpose and burn out.

. . .

They stood in the front-lines of hundreds, all of them dolls.

The first laughs they had shared together as teammates had also been the last. There was no use for emotions anymore, and the only bonds that existed were so they could remember who was before and after themselves to die.

They couldn't even try to escape. He was watching. Always watching, and every person they had considered a teacher had been his eyes.

None dared to try and flee anymore. Those who had tried previously met a fate worse than death.

The prestigious academy had started its school year with thousands of students, and now only a few hundred remained.

But it was debatable as to which group awaited a more favorable fate.

Those who had tried to run had all been captured, brought somewhere only the victims themselves and their tormentors knew, and were never seen again.

But it couldn't help but be noticed that the number of beasts of Grimm was steadily increasing as those of the children grew fewer.

Which was the worser fate? To be turned and killed by your fellows? Or to kill the monsters who had once been your classmates with your own two hands?

It was all a game to him.

He and his fellows used dark magics to tear out the souls of those who disobeyed, twist their auras until their forms were altered entirely. But they still felt pain.

Unlike his students. They felt nothing at all.

But sadly for him, another term had ended, and so this was the final battle. But he wasn't concerned; he would get a fresh wave of new blood to play with again next year, after all.

They came to him en masse, trained under his rule, and died for his amusement. And he had the resources necessary to cover it all up. It was fun.

Now, those remaining stood before him in their ranks. He had taken a particular liking to a few of them, which was why he had given them the honors of being the first group to perish.

They were his to do with as he pleased, and he was excited to watch their blood wash over one another before they all lay still. Some died as beasts, and some died in the bodies they were born with, but by this point, they could no longer be called people.

From his standpoint above them, he made his final command with a grin:

"Dismissed."

And they began to march like the dolls he had created them to be.

He watched them all as they prepared for their final fight, pouring into the forests to slaughter until they were slaughtered.

The first four girls in line led silently, prepared to die as they had always lived.

Side-by-side.

They managed to look back, however, one last glance at the building they had once lived and laughed and loved in together.

They placed they had once called home.

Then, they turned away and continued forward.

They weren't going back this time.

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**A/N: The release of this song brought about too many cruel thoughts and I'm sorry. **

**Please review!**


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